"Hey! Come downstairs, I got you something." You hear your mother call from the livingroom. You sigh and get up from your computer. 6 weeks of quarantine, and nothing's changed. You walk downstairs and see your mother holding something.
"What is this?" You ask, as she hands you a short, black cylinder.
"Look inside." She says, pointing to one of the ends of the cylinder. You roll your eyes, but humor her only to be mesmerized by what you see; a myriad of colors, merging together to create something beautiful and abstract. "It's a kaleidoscope. Like the one we made when you were little." Your mother says with a smile. "I thought it might cheer you up, since you've seemed so sad over the quarantine.." You pull the cylinder from your eye, and tears drip down your face. You reach for your mother, and hug her tightly.
"Thanks, mom. I love it." You say quietly, as she holds you close.
Once you calm down, you sit with your mother. "Do you remember when we got the kit to make your first one? We went to Yellowstone and you were in awe at the colorful pools." She says. You nod silently, remembering how badly you wanted to touch the 'rainbow water,' How happy you were, and how things were so much simpler then. What you would give just to go back...
